revellers engaged in the same way. On such a night as this there
could certainly be no need of going to bed soon after twelve for
such a one as Samuel Crocker. In Paradise Row he again encountered
Tribbledale, and suggested to that young man that they should first
have a glass of something at the "Duchess" and then proceed to more
exalted realms in a hansom. "I did think of walking there this fine
starlight night," said Tribbledale, mindful of the small stipend at
which his services were at present valued by Pogson and Littlebird.
But Crocker soon got the better of all this. "I'll stand Sammy for
this occasion," said he. "The New Year comes in only once in twelve
months." Then Tribbledale went into "The Duchess," and after that was
as indifferent, while his money lasted him, as was Crocker himself.
"I've loved that girl for three years," said Tribbledale, as soon as
they had left "The Duchess" and were again in the open air.

It was a beautiful night, and Crocker thought that they might as well
walk a little way. It was pleasant under the bright stars to hear of
the love adventures of his new friend, especially as he himself was
now the happy hero. "For three years?" he asked.

"Indeed I have, Crocker." That glass of hot whiskey-and-water, though
it enhanced the melancholy tenderness of the young man, robbed him of
his bashfulness, and loosened the strings of his tongue. "For three
years! And there was a time when she worshipped the very stool on
which I sat at the office. I don't like to boast."

"You have to be short, sharp, and decisive if you mean to get a girl
like that to travel with you."

"I should have taken the ball at the hop, Crocker; that's what I
ought to have done. But I see it all now. She's as fickle as she is
fair;--fickler, perhaps, if anything."

"Come, Tribbledale; I ain't going to let you abuse her, you know."

"I don't want to abuse her. God knows I love her too well in spite of
all. It's your turn now. I can see that. There's a great many of them
have had their turns."

"Were there now?" asked Crocker anxiously.

"There was Pollocky;--him at the Highbury Gas Works. He came after
me. It was because of him she dropped me."

"Was that going on for a marriage?"

"Right ahead, I used to think. Pollocky is a widower with five
children."

"Oh Lord!"

"But he's the head of all the gas, and has four hundred a year.
It wasn't love as carried her on with him. I could see that. She
wouldn't